


Sleep

by MadameMeduse



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Nightmares, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:22:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29900361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameMeduse/pseuds/MadameMeduse
Summary: Geralt loved the young bard, but there was a reason why he didn't tell him. A good reason. Because what could a Witcher possibly offer to a fragile human?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 103





	Sleep

Several months after Geralt met Jaskier, he finally saw through his cheerful facade.

Well, there were many things about the young bard that weren't exactly what the Witcher had expected when Jaskier had decided he would be Geralt's barker, friend, and travel companion.

The brunette had an insatiable appetite for nearly every person he met and he wasn't particularly shy in the pursuit of his affairs. Soon, Geralt lost track of how many times they had had to escape through windows and over slippery roofs to evade scorned lovers, angry relatives, or both.

Jaskier thrived under any kind of attention, like a colorful blossom swaying in the wind of his audience's applause. He danced and sang and moved every part of his slender body seductively while prancing over benches and tables, sitting on beer-stained counters or crooked chairs.

People loved the bard. And they hated Geralt. The combination of these perceptions turned out to be a great advantage for both of them. Jaskier wore Geralt's fame like a protective cape and Geralt secretly admired how easy life could be when a man was young and beautiful. It smoothed the Witcher's edges and provided the bard with a profile that exceeded his reputation of being a simpleton.

They made camp under the sky almost every night during their first summer. It was cheaper and Geralt always felt like he was suffocating in the overwhelming stench of rowdy taverns. It was a thing most humans didn't even notice.

Jaskier complained about his sad fate every evening. About the hard ground, the simple food, the little pebbles in his bedroll, and so on. Geralt listened with a hidden smile, but he refused to let his companion know. The bard's endless lament was tiring, but it reminded the Witcher that there was a world where people were allowed to be soft and vulnerable.

Jaskier was Geralt's compass. His connection to all the emotions and situations he would never experience. He needed him. He wanted him. He had fallen in love in the same second Jaskier had looked at him over the table in the tavern in Posada.

The bard was one with his needs and his wishes. Most people would call it naïve.

The same people considered Jaskier to be a coward because he preferred to run and save his life instead of putting up a useless fight.

The same people who whispered behind his back, calling him a lunatic when he decided to punch a drunkard because the man had called Geralt a freak or something even less flattering.

They didn't understand that the bard didn't care what they said, because he didn't fear the consequences. That trait was something Geralt admired. It was a sort of careless bravery he didn't possess. Geralt worried about his life all of the time.

Summer moved on and autumn approached with rain and wind. They began to sleep in barns or taverns if there was enough money to pay for their accommodation. It was Jaskier's money these days because people preferred to stay indoors and didn't meet the monsters in the swamps and deep woods. Geralt felt ashamed he couldn't provide for them, but the bard waved off his grumbled excuses with his usual nonchalance.

Jaskier always preferred single rooms, because he never slept alone. The bard had understood quickly that the scent and sound of his lovemaking put too great a strain on Geralt's refined senses, so he decided to show some decency. 

But money became shorter and one day, at a cozy tavern at Ban Ardh, they found the dormitory under the roof fully booked and only enough coin for one room in their purses.

“There is only one bed”, Jaskier mumbled and made a face. His doublet and boots were muddy and he looked exhausted. “That's a bit embarrassing.”

Geralt shrugged.

“Just don't kick me, bard”, he said drily. Sharing a bed with another man was no problem for him and he had told Jaskier so before. Which now turned out to be bad luck, because there was obviously no way to avoid a night in the same bed with the young bard he had fallen for. Jaskier was a terribly witty person. He would know something was wrong.

They spent the evening in the taproom where Jaskier sang and played, even though there were deep, violet shadows under his blue eyes. The audience was happy to have a bard around and when most of the villagers left, Jaskier had collected a decent amount of coin. He drank another glass of wine and bid his farewells.

“Are you coming?”, he asked Geralt and fiddled on the buttons of his doublet. The Witcher rose his full tankard instead of an answer and the bard left, lute case strapped to his back. Geralt drank as slowly as possible. He wasn't prepared to watch Jaskier undress. Sure, he had seen the young man naked from time to time during their travel, but being in the same room with him would be different. Intimate.

Too much to handle for a man who had been brought up under the dogma that Witcher's didn't show their feelings.

It was past midnight when he tiptoed into their room. He prepared himself mentally to shove the bard towards the wall. There was no way a man like Jaskier, a performer, and rake with a personality as expansive as the Jaruga would respect Geralt's personal space in a shared bed.

But then he remained in the movement and stood still. In a bedroll, the bard always looked like a mummy, stiff and covered with every piece of fabric he could find.

Now, Jaskier slept like a child, curled up into a fetal position. His toned arms protected his head from an invisible threat and his legs, covered in only his white linen braies, had been tucked up against his chest. Geralt blinked and began to undress quickly.

He slid under the thin blanket and stared down at the writhing figure at his side. During the days, Jaskier's liveliness covered up pretty well how young the bard really was. Now, in the gloomy light of a dying oil lamp, he looked frail and vulnerable. Geralt observed the arc of Jaskier's dark lashes resting on too pale cheeks. His fingertips itched uncomfortably. He wanted to touch him, smooth away the fine wrinkles that furrowed Jaskier's forehead under tousled, dark locks.

Something was haunting the bard, something that Jaskier had hidden so deep inside that it troubled him in his sleep. 

Every inch of Geralt's soul wanted to provide the bard with the same comfort that Jaskier meant for him. He imagined how the bard's body would relax in his arms when his subconsciousness would comprehend that he was safe with Geralt. 

But that was the exact reason why Geralt didn't dare to make a move. The bard was too young to deal with a Witcher's life and especially with a Witcher's affection. Geralt was sure that Jaskier's fears would fade away at some point in the near future. But life at Geralt's side would be a constant threat, a never-ending burden.

Jaskier didn't deserve this. And so, Geralt decided to leave him to his demons, because he knew that his love was worse than anything his bard would ever need to fight in his sleep.


End file.
